


Fireworks

by CheerfullyCynical



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Author knows barely anything pre-ninth Doctor but TRIED, Both of them fought in the War, Character Study, F/M, Hurt and comfort, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time War (Doctor Who), Time War Angst (Doctor Who), Twelfth hating fireworks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerfullyCynical/pseuds/CheerfullyCynical
Summary: Tumblr post by agenderhydeMissy and 12 hiding somewhere in the TARDIS while students are setting off fireworks near the campus, because neither of them can handle the noise. they bake cookies, or paint, or take turns telling each other stories, and maybe, maybe, they'll discuss the events of the Time War
Relationships: Mentioned The Doctor / The Master, Twelfth Doctor & Missy
Kudos: 18





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the post: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/agenderhyde/637044389864144896

The first explosion was... Unexpected.

The Doctor got up from his desk, mildly curious, and pretended that he didn’t hear it. After all, he was doing anything other than getting into trouble (although, he had a few reasons to believe that Bill would disagree). He had a vault to guard... A promise to keep... A duty to keep those safe from...

_BANG!_

The Doctor winced, watching as some student lit another firework, aiming for a certain professor that entire university hated. He considered yelling at them, playing the part of a responsible teacher, but then thought of his own shenanigans as young adult and figured it was someone else’s job.

He did nothing to hold back his smirk as the firework went off - the window, miraculously, did not break upon impact, but the hated professor screamed shrilly, echoing through the night.

There was something else that lingered in the back of his mind as they began to take aim again. A familiar feeling of dread, heavy in his hearts. He watched as the firework’s end turned orange with sparks - combustibles and strontium burning to create an explosion.

An explosion that sounded too familiar in his small office. One that reminded him of times of war, and blood, and the loss of something he would never get back. His eyes closed as he office shook, pens and other lose items wiggling as another firework went off.

The Doctor thought of pain, and death, and those he had lost... Those who had survived the Time War. Those who scarcely remained. He thought of...

_Missy._

Missy was no stranger to bombs and fire - in fact, she thrived on it. It was, after all, the reason she was in the vault in the first place. He wondered, desperately, if she felt the same way as he did.

Were her hearts beating fast - memories of running on orange sand with screams making her feel ill? Were her hands clammy, remembering the times they had to fight to make it to the next day, even when they hardly wanted to?

_BANG! CRASH!_

The sound of breaking glass pushed him over the edge - to close to the sound of a Dalek blaster. Rushing, he made his way out his office, away from the noise and the sounds, down flights of stairs and student’s gawking at the display. The feeling of panic only increased as he met fresh air, the blasts of light reflecting on the buildings around him.

He reached the last leg of his destination, nearly tripping in his haste to close the door behind him. Quickly, messing up only once, he entered in the passcode to the vault, whole body vibrating as memories became too much.

Missy was playing piano - keys smashing together in a beautiful rhythm, timing the crescendo with the fireworks outside.

“Hello, dear,” She said, eyes closed, lost in the melody, “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

“What?” He asked her, unable to peal himself off the door.

“The sound of children having fun, silly!” She answered, stopping her playing, but still not looking at him, “I mean, fireworks are so crude and boring, but such a wonderful light-”

She had finally turned to look at him. “Oh my,” She said, “Bad night?”

He didn’t - couldn’t say anything. Instead, he studied her. He took note of the tightness in her shoulders, the lines on her face... The hollowness in her eyes. He knew, intimately, how she could put on an act, and this was one that wasn’t nearly as convincing.

“Bad night.” He agreed, and said nothing more. He coughed, throat dry, and proceeded to stumble to his usual arm chair. He knew that she noticed, but couldn’t bring himself to care, not with his heartbeats in his ears.

“Late night visit, then.” Missy continued, fingers once again on the keys. This time, it was something slow... Nearly peaceful. Her version of kindness.

The Doctor closed his eyes, listening to her play, letting the notes replace the ash on his tongue. He wondered, as he watched her, how she was able to stand the sound of bombs falling outside.

“It was easy, you know.”

The song on the piano did not falter. He didn’t say anything, but he dared to meet her eyes.

“Running into the chaos,” She said, far away, “You ran from it, Doctor. But I? No, I stumbled towards war, washing away the sounds of our loved ones dying by listening to louder ones of others - fighting fire with more fire.”

The Doctor couldn’t look away from her - Missy - the Master - in her stark beauty, graceful and poised as she attempted to gloss over the very nature of herself.

“You’re wrong.”

The piano stopped, notes screeching together in a way that was far worse than the noise outside.

“Am I?” She asked, voice like ice.

“We’re the same, you and I,” He replied, standing, “You think I run around the universe in silence? Every time I stop running, all I can can hear is them screaming. Every moment I’m not in danger, I’m waiting for the end of everything I know.”

He laughed - The Master would never understand.

“You think I take these humans on my adventures for an ego boost. No, I let them on my TARDIS because it’s the only hope I have of not hearing them die, over and over again, as I fail to save everyone I loved, including you.”

“If I can save them... If I can just keep _one_ of them safe...”

If he could just keep one person he loved safe, maybe the universe could forgive him. If he could just... Make Missy see that she could use her grief - her heartbreak and her anger - for good...

“I never do. I always leave them worse off then they were before. And every time I do it, it hurts more. But I can’t stop.” 

“I can’t stop, Missy. I think... I think that leaves me just as broken as you.”

“No, Doctor,” Missy said, long after the fireworks stopped, “It makes you better than I’ll ever be.”

That, the Doctor knew, was a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Twelve!!! Hope I did him, and Missy, some justice. 
> 
> As always, if you want to rant about Doctor Who, need someone to talk to in these hard times, or just want a new blog to follow, you can find me at cheerfullycynicalfandom.tumblr.com


End file.
